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 This gave the death blow to her hopes, and completely destroyed her affected composure. She vowed from that moment to banish the faithless lover entirely from her heart, and to dry her tears which however, never ceased to flow.

In one of those many hours in which she forgot her vow, and against her will, thought of him whom she deemed unworthy of remembrance, a gentle rap was heard at the door: Mother Brigitta opened it, and who should this be, but neighbour Frank from the narrow street. He was richly dressed, and his well arranged curls perfumed the room. This stately appearance, augured certainly some more important business than to sell lint. Mother Brigitta started, she tryed to speak, but the words died on her lips. Mela rose from her seat, blushing and growing pale alternately, but preserved silence like her mother. Frank, however, was perfectly composed; he adapted words to the tender melody, which he had so often played on his lute, and in plain terms he now declared his hitherto silent love. He then